


File Code #1459 (Emo Quartet x Reader)

by Ansytea



Category: AJR (Band), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: F/M, Multi, Other, im new bere sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ansytea/pseuds/Ansytea
Summary: ♦️ᴛʜᴇ sᴄᴀʀʟᴇᴛ ᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴏᴀʀᴇᴅ "ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴍʏ sᴏɴs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀs"╔═Do not tamper with this warning without LEVEL 4 clearance. You are subject to summary termination by Coccineus-class memetic if you proceed past this point without authorization.═╝❌.jpegEditor's Note: Sorry about that, had to add a killsprite in the article or else O5-6 will have my head. Writing the overview for these files is such a chore. Hell, I'm one of the people who messed up containing the SCPs in those incidents but I believe everyone in SCP Foundation deserved to know just HOW royally FUCKED we are.If you're a higher up who gets to read these, I hope you share it. They won't let me do that. And if you just happen to survive that memetic kill agent: ...You didn't. In about an hour you'll experience a standard inoculation interdiction. I can't remember what it means, but, yikes.Alright, I'm gonna head out. (L/n)'s done something stupid, again. I'll update every Monday.- Dr Seaman sailing out
Relationships: Dallon Weekes/Reader, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie/Reader, Ryan Seaman/Reader, Tyler Joseph/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. ғɪʟᴇ ᴄᴏᴅᴇ #1459 ʜᴜʙ

_"What's this?"_

_"SCP-9254's file. You want to get promoted? Read it"_

**REPORT DATE** : 12/24/████

**Attachment/s:**

One (1) photo taken of the SCP's silhouette at Site-██'s east dead-end hall

**Item #: SCP-9254**

**Object Class** : Safe (Euclid classification pending)

**Risk Class** : Caution

**Special Containment procedures** : SCP-9254 is located in Site-██, with a sketchpad, charcoal pencil, soft sofa, and table. Music should be aired on a regular basis, preferably constantly. This music should exclude compositions originating after 1989 ("Modern pieces of junk") to avoid SCP-9254's reoccurring rampage. 

The subject has been disallowed a view of the outside or any detailed photographs and maps, especially of Site-██. Personnel who present unauthorized prints or cameras will be reprimanded/terminated depending on the breach's severity. A tinted security camera should be present in SCP-9254's room to prevent truancy. 

**Description** : SCP-9254 is a caucasian male with black hair, blue eyes, and 2-inch carmine horns ingrained on top of his head. Conversations with the SCP are deemed to be therapeutic and provides advice when he is at a "placid"-state. 

Previous records indicate [DATA EXPUNGED] was confined in the early 2000s at the Burnham Asylum, Nevada for severe paranoia and bipolar disorder, often claiming that a cult had been following him because of his prestige knowledge of psychokinesis and demonic appearance at the age of 19. The asylum closed in 2004, and the patients transferred to other various facilities. 

SCP-9254 came to the Foundation's attention in 2010 by a rumour regarding his ability to teleport by viewing a photographic image. Further investigation determined that the acquisition was warranted.

**Addendum 9254-A:**

_Note: [DATA EXPUNGED] is a conniving [EXPLICIT REDACTED]. One look would deceive you into thinking that he is a misunderstood young man. Boy was I wrong._

_SCP-9254 has the tendency to unwittingly suffocate D-class staffs unconscious when provoked in a "berserk"-state, as Iceberg would have it. Questions regarding the cult are the main causes of the subject's outburst and must be refrained. Keep that in mind, you unsuspecting juniors._

_Site-██ is surrounded by a magnetic field created by Dr. ████ and Dr. Way that will prevent him from galavanting outside, hence, an easy arrest. As long as we don't have a power outage, of course. Amen._

_-Dr. B. Urie_

P.S: Don't invite him to any parties. Nor concerts. Just don't bring him anywhere near pop music. That edgy sonovabitch will throw a tantrum. 

_"You finished? Good, here's Doctor Seaman's Personnel file. We only have one printed copy salvaged from the burnt Site-12. None of us thought it'll be of great importance. DO NOT lose it."_

**Name** : Dr. Ryan Seaman

**Attachment/s:**

One (1) "selfie" at Site-19's East Hall bathroom

**Security Clearance** : Level 4

**Specialization** : Robotics and Cryptozoology

**Site Of Operation** : Designated at Site-17 and -19 as of 12/25/██

**Duties as of █** █-█-████: Site-17 Director Personnel. Head of Research for SCP-408, -990, -336, -106 and -9254.

**Profile** : Famous for his strong personality, Dr. Ryan Seaman is a common topic among Site-19 personnel. He expresses a strong interest in regards to the Ethics community. Most staff regarded him as Mother Bear for his altruistic behavior. 

His interests include art and music, and he had shown a passion for compositions and playing percussion instruments such as the drums.

**History** : Dr. Way vouched for Seaman's hiring after observing his prosthetic projects on an MIT exhibit. Dr. Way mentioned that Seaman was chosen due to his research on physics, robotics, and most remarkably, cryptozoology. Since his employment, Dr. Seaman began to develop an interest in sentient SCPs, and incessantly requested to work with them. All requests are to be denied. He assists Dr. Iero and Dr. Way on various SCPs.

**Addendum** : As of ██-██-████, Dr. Ryan Seaman's security clearance has been promoted to Level 3 to further assist Dr. Iero's and Dr. Way's work.

**Addendum** : As of ██-█-████, Dr. Ryan Seaman has been promoted to Head of Research at Site 17, and given full security clearance to compensate with the late Dr. Iero's disappearance.

_"What about Agent (L/n)'s file? It's not here"_

_"We lost all her files when she deliberately gave SCP-732 access to logs"_

_"Damn, what a bitch"_

_"Wish I could say the same, but that 'bitch' move of hers earned her a level 3 clearance promotion"_

_"I knew it. O5s literally only sponsor emotionally stunted staff. I should try getting diagnosed with bipolar disorder"_

_"Bad joke. Anyways, investigate Incident-███████ up to their personnel logs. We can't lose three valuable assets to a whirlwind Scarlett King abduction"_

_"Fuck me."_


	2. ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳

**тнree yearѕ ago..** **.**

**(ʏ/ɴ) ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ʀᴏᴏᴍ** , slouched and nearly toppled down her bed. A lot of burdens levied on the assistant researcher's back and eyelids. She groaned and engulfed the closest pillow. She couldn't be bothered to clean up her paper scattered room, nor move to get dinner. Life acted bitchily, and the only way to achieve revenge is self-destruction, or in her case, procrastination.

She snuggled her velvety pillows, and not long after, she drifted to dreamland.

\---

The land she ascended was peculiar at best. A ceiling similar to her workplace appeared to be this Earth's foundation. The rules of reality in this world were unsurprisingly wonky. She sniffed the stench of oven-baked pizza, minted toothpaste, and cough medicine in random snippets. She almost gagged at the pungent mix, but she was aware it was a dream and she might actually throw up in real life. This was her first lucid dream since college.

When she walked down, or rather, _up_ the hall, she noticed a man sitting on a bench on the same plane. He had a matching chestnut hair and eyes and wore a funny hat to top the look. Despite his attire of stereotypical espionage, (Y/n) deduced that he bears no ill intent based on his comforting aura.

He smiled at her and patted the vacant seat.

"I'm sure you have questions, but why don't you take a seat first? That walk must've been very tiring, Starlight"

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip. Did she hire The Beatles' fifth member to perform in her dreams?

She reluctantly followed. Surprisingly, there was enough room for the two. (Y/n) muttered a small _thank you_. The stranger didn't notice it as he checked his watch.

"At around 6:40 AM tomorrow, there will be a containment breach at Site-19. Fail to show up, and SCP-9254 will escape and with SCP-682" He then fixed his sleeve and clapped, as if his warning bared no terror to any senior personnel who hears it.

Unfortunately, (Y/n) is no senior staff. She works under them with a Level 1 clearance, which is basically the little guy's job.

She doesn't fully recognize the threat of releasing -9254 and -682 from their containment. Although she knew that -9254 was the first son of "Scarlet King" and -682 was a blood-thirsty indestructible reptile, the thought just flew over her head.

"Now, it's time for the interview!... Right?" He tilted his head, disheartened with her apparent confusion.

(Y/n) froze for a moment, surprised by the sudden shift from concern to enthusiasm.

"Interview?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm... I'm tired of the name, Richard... Say, tell everyone to call me Ross"

She's not certain about what " _everyone"_ meant, and how he could easily change names. Was she supposed to text all her contacts _"Hey, a guy in my dreams told me his name's Ross now, how epic is that?"_

Why is she fretting over it? She's 100% certain that if she complied, the only thing she'd get as a reply is _"Who is this?"_ after that shit she pulled.

"Ross?" (Y/n) iterated. Her interrogative tone rubbed off offensive for _Ross_. He pouted

"Nevermind then. Ryan"

(Y/n) grew more puzzled "Wait, so you're Ryan, Ross?"

He paused and tapped his chin, chanting the name, then gleefully snapped his fingers "Why that's perfect! Yes, I'm now _Ryan Ross_ "

(Y/n)'s creased as she laughed "Okay? I'm glad you like it, _Ryan_ " but she had to admit, the name suits him.

"Fantastic! May I have your name?"

"My name?" (Y/n) giggled. He sounds like a radioman from the 40s.

"Why yes," _Ryan_ nodded

"Normally, the interviewers would introduce themselves effectively. I was hoping you'd do the same" He waved dismissively "No matter, I already know your name."

"What interview?"

" _The_ interview" _Ryan_ emphasized "It's always a game of twenty questions, and sadly, I'm always the interviewee. No matter, I enjoy the company"

She stared at him. (Y/n) never had dreamed this surreal. When she looked, she felt herself accepting its eccentricities as reality.

She might as well hone her profession and ask something, reality or otherwise. After all, Dr. House scheduled an interview with SCP-9254 tomorrow. She needs to practice getting the right information.

"Alright, I'll play."

The room altered in an instant. (Y/n) found herself on the opposite side of the glass where _Ryan_ sat. She equipped a pen and paper in a snap. The doctor composed herself and disregarded _Ryan's_ ability to manipulate her dreams.

"My name is Doctor (Y/n) (L/n)" She said, even though he probably knew everything about her since he's inside her head.

She examined his form. _Ryan's_ eyes sparkled, stifling his excitement. He must've been a lonely ghost if he was one, but she'd rather not bring that up and drop the mood.

He's clad in what she believed to be a Cold war-era uniform. Maybe that's worth a starting question.

"What's with the outfit?"

"I die in this suit," _Ryan_ pulled the hem of his uniform brushed off specks of dust "and I live in this suit. I'm sure you can empathize with my motto, you did take your lab coat to sleep" _true._

"You take passion in your work, do you not?" He added.

"No, not in the slightest" (Y/n) cringed and bit the insides of her cheek "My workplace is filled with ET conspiracy theorists and idiotic anomalies. Not that they all don't matter, but it's amateur play"

_Ryan_ gasped then zipped his mouth in realization "You're not a senior researcher yet, aren't you?"

"No, and if so, would that mean you're talking to the wrong person?"

"No, not at all" He grinned widely "In fact, I'm talking to the _perfect_ person"

"Why is that?"

"Talking to you in this timeline meant the ██-Class Scenario is neutralized"

_Ryan_ gushed "Which means ██████ and ███ can be prevented. You're significant, you know? Without you, ██████'█ ███████ would revive the Church. That's more work than what the Foundation can handle in a decade"

She tapped her pen down the folder and leaned forward "... I'm sorry, _what did you say_?"

That's... too much information in one breath...

"Enough, starlight. Enough" He gazed away "If I said more, you might end up just like Agent Smit-...."

He trailed off. His eyelids lowered and his face coiled in anguish. She decided to avoid that topic, she'd rather entertain herself with 19 more questions. However, that name he mentioned stuck in her head.

... _Let's just hope that none of that matters_.

"I understand" _Not really_ "And your identity? Why bother picking a name?"

"Why those are simple, I lost my true name a long time ago. Besides, I firmly believe a person has the right to be called whatever they want to be called."

_Well that's not very helpful information, isn't it?_

"How are you any help? To the SCP Foundation, that is"

"Why isn't that obvious? I predict things. Sadly, I can only see the future and never my past" He said so with a smile, not at all bothered by his lack of identity, unlike (Y/n), who shivered at the thought.

"And why is that, exactly?"

"Now that's strictly confidential" He flashed a sly smirk. She stared in an overcast gaze.

"If you say so" (Y/n) answered bitterly.

They talked for what felt like minutes. (Y/n) asked bombarding personal questions and he retaliated with over the top answers. She genuinely had fun, and it was the perfect break from all the work she exerted for the SCP Foundation. That's when she realized it's been so long since she made conversations.

"Ah, our time is up" Ryan stood up and extended his arm "Your friend's trying to wake you up"

"Friend?" (Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows.

Does she still have a friend or family to run to? She shoved them all aside to work for the Foundation, far too eager to prove herself and her independence.

She even wrote a note in her mirror that says " _Your work will save humanity_ " to reflect, but the quote's impact washed away. Now, whenever she sees those words she hears her peers' disappointment, yet she couldn't bring herself to wipe it.

_She just wanted to call her Dad._

"I don't think I have any friends" She muttered, almost inaudibly.

The dream man chuckled and squeezed her palm.

"Of course you do"

She looked up, and for a while, she didn't feel so alone.

Ryan closed his eyes and turned to her direction "Can't you hear him? He's singing—

\---

" _Here comes the sun, du du du du~_ "

She jerked up, which she instantly regretted after feeling immense back pain. She looked at her right and Ryan was correct, her _friend_ is singing, that is, if cellphones were valid emotional support.

She groaned and crawled her way out of bed. Then she swiped the source of the irritating noise.

" _Here comes the sun, and I say, it's alright—_ "

" _The fuck it ain't_ _, Paul._ " She clenched her jaw in a husky whisper.

It was pointless to lay in bed. (Y/n) got up and brewed herself a cup of joe.

But before she runs and goes, she caught a glimpse of a sheet of paper and her penmanship on her nightstand with the title...

" **SCP-XXXX** **"RYAN ROSS** "


	3. ʙɪᴋᴇ ʀɪᴅᴇ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘦

**sʜɪᴛ. sʜɪᴛ. sʜɪᴛ.** _ **sʜɪɪɪɪᴛ**_...

The paper wavered as she read the file. Those scrawls, word for word, is exactly how she wrote it. She never wrote it awake.

This paper can't possibly exist. There is only one realm where it must stay: inside _the dream._ But then again, should she rationally consider the possibility of things when she's working for the SCP Foundation...

Her heart thumped erratically, hammering its way out of her ribs. She gulped. The warmth of her body was stolen away.

What do people do when in need of a reality check?! Pinch their cheek??

She felt a twang of pain.

No, this isn't real. It didn't work. Her imagination's too stimulated.

She shut her eyes and counted to five.

No, the paper is still on her palm.

  
\-------------

 **SCP-XXXX: "Ryan Ross"**.

 **Object Class** : _Safe_

 **Special Containment Procedures:** _None_.

 **Description** : _A man of Caucasian descent, possibly a lieutenant in the Cold War and wears in that fashion. He has brown bowl-cut hair and dark eyes. The birth name is unknown, and further questions regarding his profile deemed futile. Claimed to be a clairvoyant._

\------------

She unconsciously shivered and pulled back.

She can't delve into it. It creeps her out. But something was off. If he can manipulate both dreams and reality, doesn't that make a _Keter_ class?

... No, maybe she should brush up the guide for object classifications and stop late-night drinking.

Wait, that's it. _Drinking_.

She probably gulped a shot or two last night. Yesterday was stressful. No biggie. She probably just dreamt of it all.

Now if only she can confirm those "probably"-s. 

This clusterfuck wouldn't have happened if those fuckers let Junior Researchers like her have a psychiatric evaluation once in a while.

She turned to the clock. Fifteen more minutes till she's late

She tossed the file aside. There's no need to spend too much time in the dark, might as well consult a professional about it. She sprinted to the bathroom.

The water trickled down her bare face. In the moment of temporary peace, she closed her eyes and prayed that the professional won't be in the dark too.

And hopefully, those prayers reached to wherever God is, cause she cannot afford to visit a threatening SCP today.

\-------  
  


The young doctor stumbled towards the building, with an access card in a hand and a cup of joe in the other. Her hair splayed all over her face.

The guards barely recognized Doctor (Y/n). She sprung the ID clipped on her chest and they stepped away, letting her stagger in.

The door opened in one swipe, greeted with the usual sight: an entire low-leveled team caught up with mediocre anomalies.

"Doctor (Y/n)." A woman with a split black and blonde hair greeted, neither looking at (Y/n) nor moving from her desk.

(Y/n) smiled. She appreciated her greeting, no matter how short. Their work is quite demanding. She can't be too greedy and ask for a cheery greeting while everyone's got a handful.

(Y/n) fumbled.

"I-uh, good evening, Doctor Martinez"

Martinez stopped typing and took the time to eye her "Are you alright? You don't look well"

She stood from her seat and raised a hand to (Y/n)'s head to check a fever. (Y/n) pushed it aside and shook her head.

"N-No. I mean, yes, I'll be fine, thanks for asking" She chuckled sheepishly and gave a toothy grin.

Martinez squinted. (Y/n) usually quips a snappy remark or two, before she grumpily marches to her desk. It's not like her to act bashful either.

The doctor stared longer and waited for the tea or beans to spill. (Y/n) didn't budge. She gave up after giving her an opening to spill and stacked the paperwork on (Y/n)'s chest.

"These are reports from Morocco sorted by date. Doctor Soot said I should give it to anyone as punishment for being late" Mar bit her bottom lip "Sorry about that. Good luck translating."

"Yeah" She scoffed. "There's no need, Wilbur's an asshole"

_Ah, there's their (L/n)._

Mar tilted her head "Are you sure you're alright, (Y/n)? Your hair's a mess and it seemed like you didn't sleep. Which is bad, since I kinda placed a bet that you overslept"

"Wow, thanks Mar" She rolled her eyes. She affirmed Mar's hunch but she can't recall what she did last night. The other doctor laughed and went back to her desk.

(Y/n) cast her gaze down the paperwork. On top sat a report about a domino that _possibly_ can't be knocked over. Can't she get a more interesting SCP?

Wait, she can.

"Hey, um, Mar?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Doctor House back?"

Martinez looked up and shrugged "No, probably not. She's been missing since Christmas"

"Yeah, no shit. I was just wondering if she came back from work"

"Well, what do you think?"

Mar's eyes lowered along with her shoulders. Her grip on the folder tightened, glaring at the computer screen before sighing in defeat.

"... Look, (Y/n)" Mar's gaze softened "I know you're the closest to Nora and I wanna say this with sensitivity.

Nora... might not come back"

"You see," She continued "I've passed by Doctor Way and Iceberg earlier, they were talking about how some Agent found a deceased scientist on a cheap motel and–

"... Maybe I should've left that part, but the way they described the corpse is similar to House. Red hair, brown eyes, that bullshit."

(Y/n) immobilized but managed to stifle a sob. "H-How can you be so sure?"

"Look: They kept talking about that untouchable gaudy necklace in detail. Fuck, they were more concerned about a necklace than House, a _human_ asset like they usually do. I'm sure it's Nora."

Mar stopped blabbering when she realized the change in (Y/n)'s behavior. She wasn't even staring at Mar, she was staring at nothing.

"I'm sorry, maybe I should've been softer..." (Y/n) can't reply, but she knew there would be no difference either way; it doesn't reverse the horror of uncertainty.

"I'm... fine... Thank you, Martinez"

Mar opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it. She let (Y/n) stagger away.

Great, now who can she trust to talk about _Ross_? Her mentor and most trusted confidant is MIA, and quite possibly, _dead_.

She has the professionalism, but not the guts to face an SCP alone. Doctor House promised she can make it work and to depend on her "magic". Now that she's gone, who can she lean on?

"Good evening, (Y/n)"

She looked back. Just as she was planning on repressing emotions, there stood Doctor Ryan Seaman, in his well-kempt lab coat and lustrous blue hair, carrying lattes in both hands.

She wiped a tear off her face. No matter the convenience, she'd rather not talk about it with Class C's nosy doctor.

Not to be confused with _Ryan Ross_ , Dr. Ryan Seaman is a different case and completely human.

Seaman's a bit of a softie too. So even with her attempt to hide her anguish, Ryan sensed the negativity. He didn't want a small thorn to ruin her day. What Ryan didn't know, however, is that he's in for a treat.

He smiled softly and offered a cup.

"Want one? I was supposed to offer it to Doctor House, but, ya know, she's-"

"Dead." She finished nonchalantly. (Y/n) placed the papers on her desk and opened the coffee. She whiffed the espresso. Just how Dr. Nora House liked it.

"... I was supposed to say _Absent_ " Ryan leaned onto her desk. He hoped that his wording spiked some hope.

The doctor sipped his drink while examining her face "You got drunk last night?"

(Y/n) thought about it "Well, yes, but actually, no. Sorry if you placed your bet on it."

The man chuckled "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's either I got so tired that I crashed or I got so wasted, either way, I can't remember shit about last night except for..." She trailed off.

Should she talk about it? It felt kinda weird talking to Ryan about it. Therapy is more on House's forte.

Besides, talking to Ryan about _Ryan_ is kind of a weird conversation, ain't it?

The blue-haired man blinked and tilted his head curiously "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

As House quoted on her first day, ' _It's a lot easier to vent to a stranger, cause when you do, there's no judgment_ '

So you know what?

Fuck it.

She breathed in

"Okay. let me start with SCP-9254's file..."


	4. ᴄʜᴏᴋᴇ

**(ʏ/ɴ) ᴘᴜʟʟᴇᴅ ʀʏᴀɴ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏғғɪᴄᴇ** and to the subsite's west hall. Their coworkers rarely pass there, since it only leads to the main Site.

So far, all Ryan got in a nutshell, was that (Y/n) got an interview with a "safe" SCP, which happened to be a teleporting man and...

"Doctor House vouched for your clearance?" Ryan gasped, concealing his not-at-all surprised emotion for the sake of politeness. (Y/n) saw through the facade and waved her hand dismissively.

In the workplace, there are roles you have to play.

There's the O5 council, which is the highest echelon and they oversee all Foundation operations. 

The Mobile Task Force and agents are dedicated to the retrieval anomalies and deal with threats. 

There's D-Classes, who are prisoners helping out scientists to pay for their crimes until their sentence is finished.

Then there's the site director and researchers: The scientific branch of the Foundation.

Unless the two are secretly convicted of crimes, the Science Department is Ryan and (Y/n)'s place.

Now, (Y/n) is about to one-up him by taking a higher clearance level.

Ryan can't even begin to imagine what it feels like to observe risky SCPs and their anomalous behavior up close and personal. He felt his heart ache. What if (Y/n) gets hurt? Isn't this too quick? Is she ready for that responsibility?

Ryan cast his gaze down and paused eerily. (Y/n) scoffed, misreading his body language.

"No need to play dumb, I know how you people view me anyways," — _a_ _sycophant—_ "can't hide from that"

The man wanted to defend and clarify his intent but could not make an entrance.

He shut up and let (Y/n) take the floor.

"The plan was to let me interview -9254, gain info then boom! Promotion! But no, I highly doubt the chances are at its peak now that she's possibly dead"

They stood in uncomfortable silence. The only noises were air vents and distant printers from colleagues.

Ryan brainstormed. His face crumpling to find a passable solution, until finally, a dim light flickered at the farthest corner of his headspace.

_"Why don't we check it out ourselves?"_

(Y/n) burst into a fit of laughter, jerking herself up as she wheezed. Her chuckles echoed. She wiped the tear she built up and stared at Ryan. He was dead serious about it.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to be hysterical, but" (Y/n) suppressed a laugh "are you fucking nuts?!"

Ryan's head, along with his shoulder, dropped "It seemed like a good idea at the time"

(Y/n) snorted "Yeah, like creating a Raid Area 51 Facebook event. That's how brilliant it was, chief"

"We're not _raiding_ , per se" Ryan shrugged and looked up "We're just borrowing House's access card....?" Even he's ashamed of his proposal. Maybe some things are better unsaid.

The woman scoffed "Uhuh, so a suicide mission?"

Ryan did not anticipate the change in attitude, yet he smiled. It's not every day that he misses a co-worker's foul and sarcastic attitude.

(Y/n) mistook his genuine smile with malice. She gritted her teeth.

"Please tell me you did not pull that shit to get me riled up"

The doctor just flashed her a curt smile. (Y/n) groaned. Suddenly, all amusement she felt earlier vanished.

"What's your real motive, Seaman?"

"To be honest, I don't know" Ryan shrugged and hide his hand in his pockets "But what I do know is that you need some cheering up"

_Cheering up_? (Y/n)'s nose scrunched and she felt a familiar boiling in her chest.

She didn't bring him to the farthest and discreet place in Sub-Site 19 to get "Cheered up".

"Well, throw that empathy hat in the incinerator Ryan because that was NOT what I was asking for when I dragged you here"

(Y/n) should've listened to her reasoning. They were right, _Ryan is useless_.

Ryan tilted his head and grinned playfully " _Reaaaally_?"

(Y/n)'s eyes twitched. If her glare can get any sharper it would. "Really."

He blew raspberries and wore a thinking expression "Then that's my solution to your mood swings— ahem" Ryan cheekily grinned " _problem_ "

Her once sulky mood combusted to a pissed off one. Almost as though his solution made her forget her best friend's disappearance.

Here's a fun fact about the SCP Foundation: The Ethics Committee, in the words of an O5, is deciding _when_ _is cruelty necessary_. Most of the doctors think the Ethics Committee is a joke, and (Y/n) thought the same.

And, it seems that this is the right place and the right time to be cruel.

With a creased face and steaming ears, she grabbed his tie and hoisted his face a few inches away from hers. She was holding back her growls as she eyed Ryan's unfazed expression. It was as if he anticipated that outcome. He's not an idiot, he just chose to be a chaotic dumbass.

"Listen here you little shit." She snarled.

"Just because you're everyone's favorite doesn't make us friends, _distasteful_ _semen dumpster_. You don't get to act all close and goody with me unless you don't want me to saw your dick off."

She strengthened her grip and noosed his tie taut.

Ryan choked, his visage drained while her warm breath heavily dabbed his skin.

"o-okay." He gawked, releasing the last ounce of breath he had. His face blemished into a darker shade.

Ryan knew she needed that moment to vent, and not to problem solve. (Y/n) herself was not aware of before, but talking to him made her feel better about some aspects.

(Y/n) released her hold.

"Go back, Seaman"

"Yes Ma'am," He said adamantly. (Y/n) is far from blind. Why would someone's eyes glimmer after being choked by a coworker? She raised her eyebrows.

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing" He sang, obviously rummaging his pockets. He's not even attempting to hide that something was fishy.

(Y/n) growled loudly "Pockets."

He pulled it out in one clean swing, grinning as he did.

_It was Nora's fucking level four key card._

"Catch me if you can!"

(Y/n)'s eyes widened. Ryan immediately sprinted in a headstart.

_Oh, that slimy douchebag_.

Fuck, she didn't think this through.

Why did she bring Seaman to the one place in the building that leads to Site-19?

Shit.

(Y/n) ran. Her lack of exercise finally bitten her arse. As expected, her lungs emptied and her stamina dwindled in seconds. It was gradually getting harder to trail the eccentric man to the point that she lost sight of him, but she knew exactly where he's going.

Damn you, Seaman. Sprinting in a hall full of contained dangerous anomalies is not a coping mechanism.

She caught up to him, out of breath. (Y/n) puffed. She raised her palm, silently asking him to give it back.

Ryan walked backward. With the last of her strength, she completely entered the site.

She swiped the card off his hands.

"You _bitch_." She heaved.

Ryan opened his mouth into a Cheshire grin. (Y/n) had never felt the urge to punch someone's teeth out this intense.

But it seemed as though she can't bear to waste more energy.

The gate behind them closed automatically in one loud shutter. Ryan's smile fell. The sound alerted them both. Gates usually have to be closed with the keycard again, unless...

The lights waned crimson and the sirens echoed incessantly. The two bolted up and tilted their heads in fear of their surroundings.

Adrenaline fueled their drained bodies. (Y/n) tried lifting the shutters. Ryan kept swiping the card with a panicked stare. Nothing happened.

Neither the lights nor the sirens helped them understood what trouble they were in. _Was it for trespassing the Site? Or was it a breach?_

Their stomach churned the moment they heard the PA static.

" _ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL, GATE B IS CLOSED. REPORT TO GATE_ _**A**_ " **_static noises_** " _IMMEDIATELY_."

_"ATTENTION, SECURITY CHIEF H. WILLIAMS, PLEASE REPORT TO CONTAINMENT CHAMBER 0-7-6 IMMEDIATELY"_

Ryan breathed in shakily. He turned to look at (Y/n). With a sorry pout, he said.

" **It's a containment breach.** "


	5. ᴄ'ᴍᴏɴ

**"ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴄʜ?"**

She exhaled. Her face crumpled into an ugly mix of denial and disbelief. (Y/n) grabbed a handful of Seaman's lab coat "You can't be serious."

"ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL, GATE B IS CLOSED. REPORT TO GATE A IMMEDIATELY."

"ATTENTION, SECURITY CHIEF H. WILLIAMS, PLEASE REPORT TO CONTAINMENT CHAMBER 0-7-6 IMMEDIATELY" The PA system rang a reality check once again.

Ryan frowned and looked down, caressing the back of palm soothingly.

"I'm so sorry for dragging you here, (Y/n)..."

(Y/n)'s mental health chipped like an antique cup. Today was tiring, in all the sense of the word. She still had mountains of paperwork, news about her best friend's loss, and a sorry asshole who's about to drag her down to termination.

(Y/n) finally, let out a sob. Her heart burst after being bandaged cheaply with alcohol. But she refused to accept her vulnerability, and desperately muffled her cries behind her lab coat.

Ryan noticed her little slip-up, but she can't deal with another nosy inquirer. She wiped her tears in one dramatic flick and took a deep breath. Hiding emotions for years taught her how to overcome grief faster.

"(Y/n)..." Ryan voiced out softly.

"Seaman." Her voice trembled a bit.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." (Y/n) answered quickly and sniffed. Talking to Ryan's what got them in this situation in the first place. Due to his omnibus tone, she felt a resurgence of irritation.

Ryan opened his mouth to say something but his conscience weighed more than his curiosity. He zipped it "I understand." He lied.

The halls emitted the sounds of rapid footsteps, all scattering in different directions. Their steps were heavy, but not alike an MTF's soles. There were muffled sounds, and they seemed human enough to trust.

(Y/n) swiped the keycard in his hands and rushed to the source. She can't stand being near him.

She nudged the card, and surprisingly, it worked this time. (Y/n) scoffed and mentioned something about stupid protocols with an inscrutable pout.

(Y/n) entered and Seaman trailed behind.

Graciously, their fellow scientists packed the room, although, they don't seem to be in their right minds.

Everyone splayed their limbs, panicking. Some rummaged lockers while others emptied bags. Everyone had their head wrapped around the possible danger, except for two strange outliers in the farthest corner.

The two men seemed to work alongside one another. The blonde one who wore glasses carried a file while the hatted one held their coffee. Both were equally stoic.

She could've sworn she had seen them before, but that is the least of her worries.

(Y/n) approached them first "Hey Docs, what's with the commotion?"

The one wearing a brown fur-lined trapper hat chuckled in amusement.

"Are you inept? There's a lockdown"

"No shit, Sherlock. How'd you think we got here? Clipping through walls? I'm asking why they're wreaking havoc. Don't we have an emergency plan?"

The blonde, whose ID says Dr. Michael Way, answered "Which Site are you from? You're from a Sub-Site, aren't you?"

His expression was blank but intimidating.

"What?" (Y/n) nervously feigned a shocked and offended expression. She blew a raspberry and waved dismissively "Pfft, what made you ask that?"

"Look, lady." The hatted one spoke "There's hardly a stable emergency exit in Site-19. You need keycards to navigate, breach, or not. And right now, we need at least a Level 3 clearance card to get the fuck outta here"

"at least Level 3?..."

She pulled out the card in her pocket in the same way Ryan taunted her earlier.

"So we can use this, huh?" She muttered

The one who wore a hat gawked and babbled incoherent speech forms in a mix of irritation and disbelief.

"W-Wha, how the fuck?" He jabbed his thumb at (Y/n)'s direction. He shot her a demeaning look as he deserved it more than her. Michael just stared at (Y/n).

"How did you manage to obtain that? Who owns it?" The blonde said.

"What is with this guy and his questions?" (Y/n) thought irritably.

"Does that matter? Really? Right now when we could be killed by whatever-SCP-number-it-was?" She said.

"Yes." Dr. Way answered without hesitation. He didn't flinch in the mention of 76 like the man beside him.

"Level 4 clearance is often held by Site Directors and Senior Researchers. I would know," There was a ghost of a smirk in Dr. Way's words.

"because I'm a Senior as well."

The ground above them shook and dust particles fell. The sounds of gunfire and roars got louder.

Ryan sensed the danger is closer than they might think. He approached her and squeezed her arm, but her stare was unmovable.

"Hmph." (Y/n)'s eyes twitched as she glared at Dr. Way.

"I don't know about you, but I'd want to get out of here in one piece, so if you don't mind," She tapped the card on the scanner. The door opened.

"We'll be on our way, thank you."

The two lowly researchers rushed out of the room. Their exit was followed by relieved sighs and booming cheers.

_"The door opened!"_

_"Oh thank God!"_

_"What the— How?!"_

_"How'd you open it, Iceberg??"_

_"Did you already found the card?"_

Iceberg brushed them off "No, it was someone else's"

The group of level 1 researchers looked at each other. They simultaneously eyed Iceberg and Way back.

_"Whose?!"_

No one in the room's authorized to use a Level 3 card except for Doctor Way, who's arguably the best Euclid Class Object specialist in the Foundation.

Iceberg scoffed and pivoted his heels towards the door, his hat bouncing as he did so.

"After years of working beside Mikey, I'm guessing it's our job to find out" He grunted.

The group shared an "oh" sound, finally grasping the situation.

Michael hummed in agreement, dismissing his assistant's unpleasant tone "Kindly enter the hall to the right and straight to the Break Room. We'll follow the group of interest."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" One piped from the front, who's likely to have seen what happened "I think they headed near 682's containment."

"We'll be fine" Doctor Way reassured, but his usual way of speaking makes it difficult to decipher his true emotions "We've done this countless times. Take care of yourselves first"

They never doubted Dr. Way's abilities so they nodded and squeezed their way to the right hall.

As soon as the two saw their men walk to the safe zone, they entered the hall to the left.

"Another raid?" Iceberg sighed "We literally got raided by the Chaos Insurgency last two days ago, and now a pair of fucktards who can't even navigate?"

"They're less than raiders, more like," Dr. Way paused as he used Iceberg's level 2 keycard "trespassers. Sub-Site 19, probably."

"Wanna bet?" Iceberg grinned.

"On what?" Way asked, still in monotone.

"You'll bet that they'll be some government hired idiots and I'll bet that they're part of the Gamers Against Weed"

"I highly doubt that they're from GAW, but sure, 5 grand?"

"You're on, oldie." 

  
Mikey sighed "I'm just twenty-eight years old."


	6. ʏᴏᴜ sᴛᴏʟᴇ ᴍʏ...

" **—ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴅ!!** "

A quiff haired man backed up against the wall. His limbs kept twitching like it's on rehabilitation. The man wore a lab coat just like the rest but what made him shine was the chained ruby amulet hanging on his neck.

A gruff, shorter man snarled and shoved him farther down.

"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU LOST IT, URIE!!!"

_Urie_ simply tilted his head puppy-like, but his lips played a defiant smile.

"Be more chill, won't ya Frank? I never had it"

"Didn't have it my ass! Knowing you, you've probably tainted my perfect log history with your terminating shenanigans!" _Frank_ sneered.

Urie snorted "Yes because obsessing over a butterfly is what the Foundation hired you for. Fantastic work on those photographs, Doctor Anthony Frank Iero Junior"

The man, who's name was revealed to be Frank, began to clench his fists tighter "Just cut the crap, Brendon. Where the fuck is my card?"

_Brendon_ sighed and pulled all four of his pockets, only to reveal they're all empty. The only thing he carried was a penny.

"See this? Absolutely nothing." Dr. Brendon Urie jeered "I mean, if you want to get yourself some _cup of joe_ you can have it"

Brendon dropped back on the floor as Frank let him go. Frank started pacing around the room in stiff movements. He chanted something incomprehensible while fiddling with the shutters of his camera.

Brendon was amused by his actions. It was nearly a live Charlie Chaplin show.

"Fuuuuck!" Frank screamed his last hurrah.

"That's the spirit!" Brendon cheered, which earned him a sharp glare.

Frank breathed in and out for about a minute. He clutched his chest. He thought he was calm, for the time being.

"You know, if you weren't such a powerhouse I would've roundhouse kicked your ass right now"

"What, with your short stubby legs?" Brendon chuckled "Oh well, I can't imagine!"

"Can't you just learn to shut the fuck up, you damn _monkey_ "

"Hey, I'm not the guy who shoves people against the wall like some lunch money bully" Brendon dusted his lab cat off as he finally finds the time to stand up "Besides, why would I steal your clearance card? _We're literally at the same level._ "

"Yeah, well, I'm not as clinically insane as you"

Brendon paused and hummed a complete thought "Point taken"

"Doctor Iero...." A third voice called out.

The two turned around and saw Iceberg at the door. He looks shaken.

"What's wrong ████? Want to write another paperwork?"

Iceberg rolled his eyes.

"Haha. Very funny, Ur-...." Iceberg examined Brendon from head to toe. The youngest researcher gawked.

"N-New body? _Already?!_ " Iceberg covered his mouth in disbelief.

"D-Class" Brendon chirped.

"Ex-mafia, but damn, do I look hot. I'm gonna bring sexy back with this bad boy" He stroke a confident pose and slapped his rear.

Brendon has a strange sense of humor. The other two visibly cringed. Iceberg nearly gagged but sucked his vomit up. Frank's eyebrows furrowed, pitying the poor researcher.

It's difficult getting used to his acquaintance leeching off prisoners' bodies like a hopping parasite. Last time Ice saw Brendon, he looked like Professor Oak. Now he looks like a newspaper boy (Well-- _Hot mafioso_ in Brendon's eyes).

It makes the junior researcher wonder, just what did his original body look like?

"What do you need, Ice?" Brendon broke the silence.

Iceberg snapped out of it.

"Way, he— He just..." Iceberg paused "Damnit, it's hard to put to words...."

\-------

(Y/n) and Ryan dashed through the halls in a zigzag direction, hoping to lose the two researchers.

When they lost their trail, (Y/n) leaned on a wall and panted for breath. Ryan regularly does exercises compared to the caffeinated woman, so it's no surprise to see her practically napping on the floor.

"You okay? We can stop here for a while"

"I-I'm fine!" (Y/n) gritted and hoisted herself up "See! We better move now-"

Her knees gave in and she fell back to her resting state. Her chest heaved weakly after she let herself give in.

"You know what...? Let me just stay for a minute..."

Ryan nodded. It was for the best. He scanned the area they entered. It was a hallway leading to three different places. The signs said "SCP-9254", "SCP-682", and "SCP-096".

"Hey, you got any clue what these numbers mean?"

(Y/n)'s head tilted up and read the numbers, dazed "I can't say I have. Sorry"

"Hmm..." Ryan swiped his card at SCP-682's door. It didn't work, since the door was jammed and tarnished with claw marks in the first place. As he was about to try and open SCP-096's door, (Y/n) grabbed his thigh.

"WAIT, NO!" (Y/n) squeaked " _ **NOT THAT ONE!!**_ "

Ryan blinked "Huh?"

"I JUST REMEMBERED STORIES ABOUT THAT DAMN SHY GUY. NOT HIM. PLEASE!!!!"

A... shy guy?

Ryan imagined it looked like a villain from Mario.

"O-Okay! Chill out! I won't!" She let go of her grip and fell once more. Ryan stared at her nervously, watching her cute face pouting over his actions.

(Y/n) got up, now well-rested. She took the card from Ryan's hand and squinted at him.

"From now on, I'll hold this. Got it?"

They heard screams from the other side of the hall. (Y/n)'s throat dried and their faces drained into a ghost-like complexion.

" **REs** _ **e**_ **ArchEr T** ** _O_** **le to M** _ **a**_ **in, p** ** _l_** **eAse resP** ** _ond_** **!!** "

" **h** ** _E_** **lp** _ **m**_ **E p** ** _l_** **EA** ** _se!!!_** " The voice sounded mutilated, and (Y/n) doubts it's human. It felt like it's trying its hardest to appeal to _someone empathetic._

(Y/n) observed Ryan biting his lips.

_Someone like Ryan._

'" _ALRIIIGHT_ , WE ARE GETTING THE **FUCK** OUT OF HERE!" (Y/n) gripped Ryan's arm as she immediately swiped the card at the nearest door.

They entered in haste and shut the door behind them in a blink of an eye. They didn't even bother to see if the area was safe.

The room was covered in an orange peanut butter-like substance. Thankfully, it seemed as though no one was there in the first place, but strange enough the room smelled like...

"Hawaiian pizza?"

"No... It smells like (favorite food)" (Y/n) answered.

For some strange reason, she can also remember the time Nora took her out to shop... Or the time her mother brought her a chemistry set... Or when her father came back from buying milk-...

Wait, what's going on? Is this an effect of that orange slime?

She flinched and stared at Ryan mockingly "How can you even mistake (food) for pizza?"

"Um, no." Ryan shook his head "It smells like pizza. Get a nose job, _(Y/n)_ "

(Y/n) raised her hands, defeated. "Suit yourself."

"Who are you?"

A serene voice called out. The two snapped their heads at the source of the sound. They froze. Once again, they were not alone.

Piercing blue eyes gazed disparagingly. The tall stranger didn't wear any lab coat, orange prison clothing, nor MTF uniform. He instead wore a white button-up shirt and black slacks.

Although, what's strange about him wasn't his out of place clothing, rather...

**It's the thick red horns on top of his head.**

\-------

"Take your time!" Brendon smiled "It's not like there's a bunch of anomalies on the loose at the moment! We'd gladly wait for your announcement"

"Urie, please" Frank growled.

"Way, he kinda... _got kidnapped by 999_?" He said, making it sound more of a question. Iceberg bit his bottom lip, waiting for their disappointed groans.  
  
  


Instead, he heard a pair of atrocious laughter.

"Nine nine nInE???" Brendon wheezed. Frank can barely contain his laughter as he kept punching the wall with the side of his fist.

Iceberg pinched the bridge of his nose "This is what I meant by not being able to word it right..."

"WhAt!? DiD tHe jElLO fiNaLLY mAkE hIm lAUGH??"

"Doctor Urie..." Iceberg grumbled.

It has been a famous legend inside the SCP Foundation that if Michael Way smiled, good things are bound to happen. He was forced to contact tech support to take down all photographic evidence as to not rise the hype. It was a great nuisance. Michael's smile got undeniably worshipped that a doctor wrote an article about its miraculous effects.

Of course, the O5s believe he is not an SCP, and therefore didn't operate any actions on the said case. Except they gave the author, Doctor Peter Wentz, a psychiatric leave.

_"Oh ho no-no-no_. I bet Mikey just ordered you to send us so that you can't see him fucking smile. That fucking robotic asshole." Frank added, now giving Brendon a friendly elbow jerk.

Earlier they were both neck-deep into assassinating one another, but the minute they heard their colleague was kidnapped they're both acting like accomplices ready to grab a beer and call it a day.

" ** _DOCTORS!!!_** "

They stopped laughing after Iceberg screeched, but that didn't stop them from being a bit jittery.

"God— I don't give a shit if Doctor Way is kidnapped, alright?! I wanna win a 500 K bet even if I have to shove my hands in his dead body."

"Woah, ████, chill out bro" Frank raised his hands defensively.

Iceberg scoffed "All I'm asking from you two idiots is to at least find Mikey. Take pictures of him smiling if you want, I don't give a shit. Meanwhile, I'm getting those raiders off the site"

"H-How many pictures?" Doctor Iero subconsciously raised his DSLR camera.

"I don't give a damn how many. Just..." Iceberg pulled his hat closer till his eyes were barely seen.

"Just let me have this moment."


	7. ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘴

**"...sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴡᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴀᴡ ʜɪᴍ** and walk out? I don't wanna deal with this, Seaman" (Y/n) whispered down Ryan's ear, but he couldn't move.

They both had a clue on who this "person" was- the horns kinda gave it away. Even with that terrifying fact, they both have an opposite reaction.

It was the "man" (Y/n) planned to interview. It's SCP-9254, in the flesh.

The son of quite-possibly-Satan was confined in a slime plastered 32 square meter space. It's a train of thought (Y/n) never knew she'll have.

Ryan stared at his coworker, who seemed unfazed by this scenario. The danger entered and exited her ears while she muffled a yawn.

Don't get it wrong, (Y/n) doesn't want to "get her ass handed to her by some occult TARDIS". It's just that after the things she had to put up today, she didn't feel like giving her all, you know? It was pointless. She completely threw her empathy aside after she almost slipped a breakdown in front of her borderline suicidal colleague. She's tired.

She'll only lose her cool once she finds Nora, dead or alive.

"... I can hear you" the SCP-9254 muttered, "I'm not a demon, you airhead."

Ryan was taken aback by the strangely casual insult. Going far as to worry if the SCP has mind-reading powers.

(Y/n) snorted, with her eyelids nearly fluttering to a close "Yeah, riiiiight"

She turned back to Ryan "Let's bounce"

Before he could agree, the SCP cut them off.

"You can't."

"Oh?" She held up the clearance card to spite him "And why?"

Since he's usually confined, the SCP wouldn't know if the two are registered high-class personnel. So there's no danger in showing it off.

The man simply pointed at the door.

"Because the SCP-939s are outside, aren't they?"

As if on cue, they heard a disgruntled screech.

"SomEonE pLeasE hElP!!!!"

They can hear SCP-939s loiter nearby. They are known to mimic voices to catch their prey. Based on rumors, those predators look nothing human, and more akin to a dinosaur with fourth-degree burns.

(Y/n) chuckled, too jaded to care about casualties "Good thing I'm not exactly the heroic type, huh? Well, maybe the appropriate word for it is stupid."

Meanwhile, the life in Ryan's face turned pale, like a rose abandoned by the sun. He gazed at the SCP as if to ask if the voice was one of theirs. -9254 nodded.

(Y/n) would've laughed. His incompetency misled him into thinking the screams were authentic.

She sighed. He's far too gullible to be a member of the deadliest organization.

"You'd be dead by now if it weren't for me." (Y/n) said.

"T-Thank you..." He whimpered.

She flinched. I was just a warning, she didn't ask for gratitude.

Nonetheless, she looked away, and nonchalantly said "No problem."

(Y/n) stared back at -9254. She hadn't forgotten the elephant in the room. He was now a few inches close to them, and his resoundingly calm breathing was agitating.

She looked up. As to be expected, his article was accurate.

Damn, how tall is he? Is his height an anomaly?

"You." (Y/n) spoke.

The SCP tilted his head at the sudden bold tone. He was looking down on her. (Y/n) subconsciously took a step back and raised both hands defensively.

"You.... wouldn't mind if we stay here, in your, um, strange orange slime storage room for a bit, SCP-9254?" She muttered. That bravery quickly seared into mumbling fear.

The SCP took a moment to examine both their features. His gaze was penetrating. Ryan undoubtedly shivered once the ocean eyes met his.

"Not at all. But please don't call her that. She's my sister." SCP-9254 scoffed and rolled his eyes. He sat back down the uncomfortable mattress

"Nines, come here so they can have a place to sit"

The static slime gravitated towards -9254 slowly, like running syrup coming from every corner of the room. His "sister" scarfed around his shoulder. Once "Nines" left the corners, a mattress resurfaced.

If (Y/n) was certain, she would've blurted out that she heard the slime make a gurgling, high pitch noise, and the horned man smiling curtly.

Ryan coughed "I'm sorry, your WHAT?"

"She's SCP-999. Perhaps you've heard of her as the Tickle Monster"

... What.

"Is that like, the water of the womb from when you were born?" Ryan asked.

-9254 glared at him. Ryan immediately clammed up. Unbeknownst to the doctors, they don't share the same mother.

"Tickle monster doesn't seem that threatening of a name" (Y/n) thought.

-9254 snorted, "Word."

An awkward silence ensued after the blue-eyed SCP's remark. It was a long silence.

Since there was nothing to do, Ryan tried forming a rhythm using the mattress while (Y/n) and -9254 shared a judgemental stare. (Y/n) was becoming more annoyed than paranoid with the lack of movement. They should be on the run right now.

-9254 sighed and looked down at the slime, which- whom he petted.

"I didn't get to hear because of all the commotion outside; who caused the breach this time?" He asked.

"I've heard from a researcher that it's SCP-076-2" (Y/n) said. She made sure it sounded like she knew who it was, and pretended to be annoyed.

"Oh," -9254 paused, then laughed "Able is still a ditz, huh..."

Ryan looked perplexed "Abel? Like the first murder victim Abel from the Bible?"

(Y/n) shot him a quick glare and mouthed _"Way to ruin the cover"_

Ryan had heard stories, but he failed to take them into account. It's hard to believe words coming from imaginative coworkers.

"Ah-duh" -9254 said "but I doubt they spell it the way you think"

"Well, then how do you spell it?" Ryan said.

"Doesn't matter who caused the breach or how you spell the damn name" (Y/n) spat "We're trapped. You should be thinking about how on earth can we get out of here, Seaman. More specifically, Gate A."

"You want to go to Gate A?" -9254's eyes widened, and slowly relaxed "I shouldn't be surprised, of course, you would. Scientists shouldn't linger."

"The west hall is swarming with SCP-939s right now, I don't think we can make it" Ryan pouted "We need to wait it out."

"Unless..."

The two scientists looked at SCP-9254, who was smirking.

"...Unless?" Ryan asked.

(Y/n) frowned "No. I know what you're thinking, and sorry, but no way in hell, Beetlejuice."

"What're you both talking about?" The blue-haired man looked worried.

"Don't bother knowing." She said

"Tough. Are you going to throw away this shot?" SCP-9254 sang.

"Yes."

"What shot?" Ryan piped up again. "Come on. Let me in on this conversation!"

"Wicked." SCP-9254 smirked, "Now, why don't you explain it to him, Miss...?"

"(Y/n)." She said, albeit annoyed.

"And I'm Ryan," Seaman said.

The SCP smiled.

_"Pleased to meet you both. My name is Dallon."_

She scoffed "Right like you expect us to treat you more than just a monster, SCP-9254. Also, can you stop with the 80s slangs? It's too cringe-worthy."

With the last remark, the orange slime nearly lunged forward to seemingly 'attack' (Y/n), but Dallon pulled 'her' back.

"I swear I'm not expecting anything. Just doing you a favor since SCP-9254 is suuuch a mouthful"

'Dallon' dreadfully stuck his tongue out.

"Sure, I'll call you Dallon" Ryan smiled.

'Dallon' pointed at him and grinned innocently, which only pissed (Y/n) more "See? Ryan gets it."

Ryan said "But, Dallon,-"

"Don't call him that, Seaman."

"-What do you mean by unless? Is there a way we can get out without getting mauled by those... those things?"

Ryan couldn't describe Dallon's smile at first. Soon enough, the ineffable turned sinister. A cursed grin. He felt his spine shiver at the sight of Dallon's dull blue eyes.

  
"ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜ?"


End file.
